


It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

by synvamp



Series: Fair Game Weekend 2020 [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Clover tries so hard to be professional, Elm and Vine may need therapy, Flirting, Fluff, Hints of Smut, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt: Seasons - winter, Qrow is a flirty terror, Swearing, fairgameweekend2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synvamp/pseuds/synvamp
Summary: A lil hurt/comfort, flirting, humour & mild spice for Fair Game Weekend 2020, Day Three: Seasons - winter.Qrow is out on the tundra alone, at night, in winter. A storm is gathering high in the mountains and it's about to get wild out there. Clover is sent on a rescue mission but ends up with a lot more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Weekend 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007073
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

\---xxx---

Clover let himself get lost in the rhythm of his reps, the controlled breath, the steady burn of forming muscles. A light sheen of sweat had just started to form and he could feel all the aches of the previous day melting away. He heard his scroll ding, the mission allocation tone. With a rueful smile, he flipped to his feet and strolled over.

The blue screen flashed, 5:32 am. He wasn’t on duty until seven. He clicked the flashing icon on the screen. It was a direct notification from the General, asking that he attend his office in person for duty. _Now._

Clover looked at it for a minute, a little quirk of concern working its way across his brow. He towelled himself off quickly and threw his uniform on, not even stopping to shower. The General didn’t say _now_ when he meant in twenty minutes.

The office was dark in the pre-dawn light of winter. The sun wouldn’t reach these far northern plains until 8 am, if at all. The heavy storm clouds boiled, hiding and revealing the shattered moon in the window. James was at his desk, one knuckle tapping lightly on his chin. His brows were heavy, face strangely craggy in the muted light.

“Clover,” he nodded, acknowledging Clover’s salute, “I was going to wait until Elm and Vine arrived but I think you’ll have to brief them on the fly.”

“Sir,” Clover nodded his acceptance.

“Huntsman Branwen went out on a mission last night and hasn’t returned yet. I know that you’re not on duty technically but when we have a search mission of this nature, time is of the essence. We could use all the luck we can get. I’ll send two more teams after you.”

James looked up and Clover could see the dark circles under his eyes, the way the little muscle on his right temple twitched.

“Who is with him?”

“No one, he went alone.”

Clover just stared. James sighed heavily.

_I must be hearing it wrong_.

“He went… alone? On a night mission in Solitas, in winter? When there’s a storm coming?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _serious?_ ” Clover shook his head. “Did he storm off or was this a proper allocation?” He honestly couldn’t believe that anyone, let alone a trained huntsman, would go out into the Solitas cold alone at night. It was more than reckless, it was insanity.

“It was an allocation,” James’s blue eyes flashed defensively, his posture stiffening. After a minute his shoulder slumped. “It was a bad idea, I know. Just… find him.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The storm was coming in fast. Even far up in the clouds, Clover could hear the ominous creaking of the Atlas tether cables. The wind was starting to howl, clawing at every exposed surface. It was going to be a bleak and bitter day. The weather interfered with communications so there was no way to know whether Qrow’s aura was intact until they were almost on top of him.

Clover met Elm and Vine in the hanger bay. “Branwen’s missing,” he said shortly, not wasting time with pleasantries.

“With the storm coming? At night? In winter?!” Elm asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Clover said, his expression eloquent.

“Shit,” said Elm.

“Indeed,” Vine concurred.

“I’ve grabbed some blankets and food in case we get stuck in the weather, is there anything else we need?” Clover asked as he strapped his snow boots on.

“Full med kit?” Vine checked.

“Got it.”

“Brandy?” Elm asked.

“Ah, no. Skip it this time,” Clover said.

They looked at him for a minute then nodded. “That’s all then, Captain,” Vine said.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

\---xxx---

The manta shivered through the sky, Elm wrestling to keep it out of the worst of the swirling air currents. They touched down lightly up against a snowdrift, in the hope that it would give them some shelter. It didn’t seem to do much. The manta rattled and creaked but he knew it was built Atlas tough so if they had to hole up until morning, then that would be ok.

“If we split up, we can search faster,” Clover shouted above the roar of the wind. The General had told them roughly where Qrow would be but they still had a lot of ground to cover. 

“Comms check,” Vine shouted back.

They checked their communicators and made a rough plan for who would search which areas, mapping out a standard rescue grid on the map. Once they were organised, Clover stepped out into the building storm, flicked his pin and strode into the night.

The powder was coming down heavy, stinging his face and making his eyes stream. Even with a powerful torch, visibility was very poor. Clover had to lean into the wind to stay upright. He walked along in a diagonal line trying to maintain a good search pattern. It was slow going.

“How are you doing?” he called into his communicator.

“Nothing yet,” Elm’s voice crackled back, weak and distant.

“No signs,” Vine said.

“Be careful,” Clover said, “this weather is getting worse. I don’t want anyone else to rescue.”

“Yes, boss,” Elm replied.

“I am always careful,” Vine admonished.

“Well, be extra careful,” Clover said. A huge gust nearly knocked him off his feet and he dug his boots into the snow. It really was getting wild out here. The wind started to lift his coat and he could feel his aura draining a lot quicker than he hoped. He gathered the fabric around him and pulled the fur hood close to his face.

“Qrow!” he called into the swirling dark. He knew it was pointless to shout in all this howling wind but it helped him to focus. Helped him to drown out the maddening roar of the storm and the little grain of concern which twisted in his chest.

He found a large snowdrift and followed it along, slipping across wet rocks where a little stream struggled through the tundra. As he walked, the grain of concern grew. Qrow had been out in this all night! He pulled out his scroll and tried to find Qrow again. The huntsman’s location and vitals weren’t displayed but he could see an aura reading. It was low. Worryingly low. But it meant that Qrow was near him somewhere.

“Qrow!” he called. The word was snatched from his lips by the wind and hurled into the night.

Clover tried to climb to the top of the drift, thinking he might be able to see something. A light, perhaps? Any clue as to where Qrow might be. He kept slipping and the frustration built. Finally, he flicked his pin again and leapt up, trying to use his weight to get some purchase on the slippery slope. He managed a flying leap but when he hit the drift, instead of sinking thigh-deep into the powder, he fell through it completely. The ground opened up beneath his feet. With a startled yelp, he vanished into a gaping hole which had opened up in the ice.

At first, there was only cold and darkness. Clover groaned and tentatively stretched out his limbs. Nothing seemed broken, so that was a good start.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a deep voice drawled in the dark.

Clover heard fabric rustle, then there was a click as the light of a torch illuminated a little snow cave. It had a tunnel-like entrance on the other side which howled with wind song. Sitting with his back against the snow, battered but still smiling, was Qrow. It seemed like he’d remember his snow survival training and made a shelter. 

_Thank goodness._

“Qrow!” Clover immediately put his hand to his ear and pressed his communicator. “I’ve found him..” he trailed off as static hammered back at him down the line.

“Yeah I tried that,” Qrow said. “We’re in a dead zone because of the valley.”

“Are you hurt?” Clover asked.

“Nah, not much. I think I’ve broken my ankle. Aura got low,” he sighed, “Just my luck.”

“Well isn’t it good you have me, then?” Clover smiled. He took off his coat and leaned over to drape it over Qrow’s shoulders. As he moved closer he was suddenly transfixed. He hovered, inches from Qrow’s face, his features lit with joy.

“Goodness,” he breathed.

Qrow chuckled, “ _Goodness?_ ”

Clover continued to stare. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was doing it and he knew he should stop but that part of him was so small and the part of him that just wanted to gaze at this wonder forever was stronger. So much stronger.

“Hey, boy scout, are you ok?”

“The tip of your nose goes pink in the cold, Qrow.”

“Uh, ok?”

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Clover said. And it was true. He didn’t mean to say it, not quite like that. Not quite _out loud_ … but it was true.

“Shut up,” Qrow growled but a little smile lit his face and gods if it didn’t just make him even more adorable.

Clover gestured zipping his lips shut. He made a heart with his hands and then gestured from his eyes to Qrow.

“You can even flirt with your mouth closed. Not bad, lucky charm.”

“I can flirt underwater. There’s a video,” Clover nodded, his eyes twinkling.

“I bet there is,” Qrow grinned. “You might have to hold that thought though, my aura is just about gone and I don’t fancy being a frozen birbcicle.”

Clover nodded. _Yes, that’s right; I’m not actually here to stare at the lil pink tip of his perfect nose._ “Can you make it out of the cave?”

“Yeah, got in ok.”

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Once they were out in the weather, it was a different story. It was still pitch black and the soft powder made the landscape treacherous, each step a calculated risk. Even standing still, they were knocked about by erratic gusts of wind. The snow hit them in rolling waves, riding the storm front from far up in the mountains. There was no way Qrow was getting through this with a broken ankle.

“Is it ok if I lift you?” Clover asked.

Qrow just looked at him. He clearly wasn’t thrilled with the idea but they didn’t have much choice.

“Alright,” Clover leaned in, “put your arm around my shoulder… you hold the torch… there we go…”

Clover lifted him easily. “Wow, you are a lot heavier than you look,” he said, trying to inject a little levity.

“I’m no lightweight,” Qrow grumbled.

Clover looked down into clear red eyes. Qrow’s upturned face was so close. His skin was luminous in the stark torchlight, every line of his strong bone structure highlighted to perfection. His nose was still dusted with rosy pink…

_Come on Cloves, pay attention! He said something… now what was it? Ah, that’s right._

Clover looked away from those proud accusing eyes. Qrow Branwen was certainly no lightweight. He could tell Qrow was trying to bait him. Qrow knew he’d done something reckless and perhaps being defensive was an ingrained habit. Clover knew he should leave it but the twinge in his heart was all too real. What if Qrow took a risk like this again? “I know you’re tough, Qrow but Atlas winter storms are deadly.”

Qrow sighed, “Look, spare me, boy scout. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Alright, I’ll skip the lecture,” Clover said. He was alright, that was all that mattered.

The weight in his arms was barely warm, even though Qrow was pressed close to his chest. _I should have brought a change of clothes for him_ , Clover thought. His face flushed with heat as the image of Qrow getting changed flashed before his eyes. _Now is not the time!_ He focussed on the strong, slender body in his arms and realised that his chest felt light. He was _so_ relieved. The tiny revelation burst like a firework in his mind, “I was _really_ worried about you,” he said.

“About me?” Qrow scoffed, raising his voice to be heard above the storm, “I’ve survived things that would have killed the dinosaurs, don’t worry about me.”

Clover dropped his shoulder into the wind and angled their bodies to try to protect them from the abrasive force of the snowstorm. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he chuckled, “I just like you a lot more than I expected.”

“I hear that,” Qrow nodded, contemplative. “I’m not exactly known for my love of the Special Forces but…” he trailed off and Clover made the mistake of looking down at him again. His breath formed dragon-like plumes of steam which were snatched away by the fierce winds. Tiny snowflakes dusted his eyelashes, melting into tiny drops of water, reflecting the colour of his eyes.

“But…?” Clover breathed.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Qrow said. His gaze flicked up just for a second and his eyes were bright. Clover had hoped for more but for now, it would do.

“You’re welcome. It gives me something to do while everyone is holed up due to the storm. Marrow is having a horror movie marathon.”

“Not a fan?” Qrow winced as a harsh gust of wind twisted his injured leg.

“Are you alright?” The pain in Qrow’s eyes made Clover’s chest ache.

“Yeah fine, let’s just keep moving.”

“Can do.” Clover slogged into the wind, walking at almost forty-five degrees just to remain upright. “No, I’m not a fan of horror movies and I certainly don’t need to watch them for eight hours straight.”

“So how about now? What’s the plan to wait out the storm?”

“Well, we have a manta so we’ll be pretty comfortable. I brought blankets and rations in case we got stuck. I’d rather not wait to get you to medical care but I think we should be fine until the weather breaks. Flying in this would be crazy.”

“Did you bring a team?” Qrow’s voice was bitter, perhaps reflecting on his mistake in coming out into the weather alone. Clover was also a little sad to admit that they had company.

“Just Elm and Vine. They should be meeting us back there in a couple of hours.”

“Good. I don’t really want anyone to see me being carried in like a blushing bride. No offence.”

“There’s no shame in needing a little help,” Clover asserted. The red eyes glared back at him. He chuckled at Qrow’s pout, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When they finally reached the manta, Clover’s aura was also starting to wear some storm damage. He opened the rear door and clambered inside, putting Qrow down gently on a bench seat. He rummaged for some rations and gave Qrow a self-heating pack of coffee. A hot drink inside him would do more than a blanket to thaw the ice inside. He found a thermal blanket too and wrapped that around Qrow’s shoulders.

“It’s your left ankle?”

“Yeah,” Qrow winced as he twitched the leg to demonstrate.

“Let’s elevate it then and have a look.”

Clover found the medkit and got a crate of supplies for Qrow to rest his foot on. “Do you want some painkillers? It’s not going to be nice getting this boot off.”

“Not yet. Once my body temperature is up, maybe. Medication will only make it harder for my body to fight off hypothermia.”

Clover nodded in agreement. It was the sensible course to take but it didn’t make him happy. He really didn’t like the idea of causing Qrow any more pain but it seemed like the only way. He took off Qrow’s boot as gently as he could, trying not to notice the huffs which escaped through Qrow’s gritted teeth.

The joint was purple and swollen, he probed it gently with his fingers and Qrow’s breath hitched. “I think you’re right, it’s broken. It must be a nasty break too with all this fluid.”

Qrow sighed, “I guess I’ll just keep it elevated then and wait until my aura recovers.” He knocked back the last of his coffee, “Thanks for that. I feel a lot better. Do you have any decent rations?”

“Of course. I have Patch stew!” Clover teased. The military rations were pretty gross generally but the Patch stew was notorious. Grey and congealed, it formed one big jelly-like clump. It was absolutely impossible to tell what was in it as all the squashy lumps were just as foul as each other.

“I’d rather die.”

Clover laughed, “I might have brought some peanut butter too.”

“Now that is the good shit. Gimme.”

Clover handed over two foil packets. They would be perfect. High fat, high protein, high calorie and easy to eat. He also found some crackers and opened those. As he handed them over their hands brushed together.

“Qrow! Your fingers are freezing!”

“Yeah,” Qrow huffed. “Hypothermia will do that to a guy.”

“We have to warm you up!” Clover scrambled around and found a heat pack; he cracked it, breaking the small vial of chemicals inside to start the heating process. He handed it over and stood looking down at his charge in concern. “I don’t think that’s going to be enough. There’s bedding too…”

“If you try that ‘huddling together naked for warmth’ line on me, I’m going back out into the snow,” Qrow chuckled.

Clover blinked. It didn’t sound like a terrible idea to him.

Qrow looked up and their eyes met. Clover held his gaze, trying to think of something, anything he could do to get some warmth back into that lithe, slender body. “I have heard that friction is good to promote body heat.”

He hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just his rambling brain trying to fix on anything that might help but Qrow’s eyes widened and the touch of pink which still kissed his perfect, aquiline nose spread slowly across his cheeks. “I guess you have brought me dinner so…”

_Dinner? What is he..?_

_Naked for warmth?_

_Oh._

_Friction?_

_OH._

“No, I meant… I mean… if you…” Clover stammered.

“It’s ok boy scout, I’m just teasing you,” the red eyes sparkled with mischief. Clover looked down at him, his eyes twinkling as he tore open his second packet of peanut butter.

_Gods, tease me. Don’t stop._

Clover tried his hardest to form a sentence but all that came out was, “I… body heat is… if you…”

Qrow’s eyes narrowed.

Clover coughed, “Sorry, I uh…”

“I guess a little cuddle wouldn’t hurt…” Qrow said slowly.

“You want…?” Clover asked. His mind was reeling, lost in those pools of magma, those beautiful, blazing orbs of fire. His body was not so slow to react. Before he could form a cohesive thought, he was stripping off his wet top layer of clothing and sitting down.

Qrow lifted up the corner of the blanket to let him in and slowly, tentatively, Clover wrapped his arms around Qrow’s chest. He dug his fingers into Qrow’s vest, not daring to think, barely daring to breathe.

Qrow’s body tensed and then gradually, as the warmth spread from Clover’s chest, he relaxed. One hand curled around Clover’s side. Clover turned his face into the touch and nuzzled against Qrow’s shoulder, his hair was damp and feathery against Clover’s cheek.

_He’s cold. It’s an emergency. Don’t think about the rise of muscle peeking out from his shirt, don’t think about the scent of his hair, don’t think about how his long, delicate fingers feel against your skin…_

Qrow lifted a hand and Clover stiffened, terrified that the huntsman could somehow read his mind, feel his desire. Qrow’s hand hovered in the air and Clover shifted, turning just a little more into the embrace. Qrow’s fingers settled on his head and started sifting gently through his hair. The light touch tingled through his scalp, spreading warmth through his whole body. He concentrated on the touch, feeling Qrow’s long fingers part his hair and comb it one way and then the other. Finally, they stopped, resting on his brow. His fingers curled tight into Qrow’s vest, hanging on to the fabric as if it were the only real thing in the world.

“Qrow…” he breathed.

“I..” Qrow started. Clover lifted his head and Qrow’s face was so close… the words died on his lips.

_He’s so beautiful._

Qrow’s hand moved slowly up his side and clasped the front of his vest. He grabbed a solid fistful of fabric and pulled Clover in. Qrow’s lips were cold but his mouth was warm, sweet with peanut butter. One light kiss became two, three, four… they dipped together and pulled away only to be drawn inexorably together again. Qrow’s cold fingers danced across his chest, leaving a tingle of cold sparking behind them. They rested lightly on his top shirt button, teasing at the fabric in a way that made Clover’s breath shudder.

Qrow pulled away from the kiss and gazed deep into his eyes, “Body heat is meant to be very good for hypothermia,” he said.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Clover asked, stroking his thumb along Qrow’s collar bone and stealing just one more kiss.

“You’d have to be careful of my ankle…” Qrow breathed against his lips.

Clover took that soft bottom lip between his, tasting the heat, drawing in the scent of him. “Qrow,” Clover huffed, “you’re injured… I shouldn’t..” the sweet lips drew him in again and somehow the top button of his shirt popped open. He could feel Qrow’s fingers curl tight on his hip and he shivered.

“I might not offer again,” Qrow whispered. His lips were red and slick with spit. They filled Clover’s mind completely.

“You really…? Qrow! _We can’t_ …” Clover said and somehow the clasps of Qrow’s vest began to pop open one by one.

“You said you wanted to keep me warm…”

“Don’t tempt me,” Clover said, the strain in his voice spilling out as his fingers tensed against Qrow’s chest. He could feel the rise and dip of warming muscles, the fingers on his hip pulled tight.

“I don’t?” Qrow said, pretending to be hurt. “Well, I guess I’ll just get naked by myself then. Seems like a good excuse to me.”

“Qrow…” Clover whispered because it was all the coherent thought that his mind was capable of. That one word was everything in his mind. Everything in his suddenly far too-needy body.

“We only have a little time. You really want to waste it?” Qrow’s hand slowly trailed down his chest, his fingers walking, achingly slowly over his stomach. They came to rest on his belt and Qrow bit his lip.

_The man has a point._

\---xxx---

“Do you think Clover found him?” Elm shouted as they approached the manta.

“Our Captain is known for his luck, I’m sure that they are back by now,” Vine called back confidently.

“We should contact him in case he’s still out there somewhere,” Elm shouted, lifting her hand to her ear.

“Wait…” Vine said, knocking her wrist away.

She raised an eyebrow, “What’s your problem?”

“Listen,” Vine said, gesturing to the ship.

Elm strained her ears but all she could hear was the roar of the storm and the creaking of the hull as the metal was buffeted by the gale winds.

“I don’t kn..” but then she heard it. A faint rhythmic banging noise was emanating from the manta. She turned to Vine, puzzled. “What the hell is that?”

Vine smiled. He pulled his scroll out and fiddled with it, changing the frequency of his communicator to relay a long wave transmission to Atlas. He put his hand to his ear and said loudly, “Rescue crew Alpha to rescue base, come in rescue base.”

“Yes Alpha we have you,” a crackly voice spluttered in his ear, “any news on Huntsman Branwen?”

“We’ve found him,” Vine said, the smile on his lips deepening, “Captain Ebi is administering aid to raise his body temperature but the storm is closing in. It looks like we will be here a few more hours yet.”

“Good work, Alpha. We’ll notify the other teams. If you don’t check in once the storm dies down we’ll send out a truck. Stay safe.”

“Will do, base. Over and out.”

“Administering aid?” Elm asked, her eyes just about popping out of her head.

“The rate of percussion is increasing precipitously. I doubt that we will have to wait for long,” Vine nodded sagely. “I’m sure Huntsman Branwen will be nice and toasty very shortly.”

Elm blinked slowly and then gasped, “Vine! You don’t think..?!”

“Still getting faster,” he smirked.

“No, I can’t believe it. Not on duty! Not _Clover_.”

Vine pulled his scroll out of his pocket and tapped it a few times. He held the screen towards her. Two sets of vital signs were displayed. Heart rates a bit elevated and… slowly climbing. Qrow was still a little cold by the look of it but getting warmer by the minute.

Elm put her hand over her mouth and just squeaked, “Clover you _dog_.”

“Never one to let an opportunity pass,” Vine mused.

Finally, Elm recovered enough to form a proper sentence, “What the hell are _we_ going to do then?”

“Wait until I give the all-clear and try not to think about it,” Vine said, practical as always.

“I just…” Elm said, dissolving into a chuckle.

“Body heat is a well-known antidote to hypothermia,” Vine shrugged.

“Stop it! I’m trying not to think about it!” Elm gasped.

Behind them, the clamour in the manta reached a crescendo and the two of them looked guiltily into the heavy grey skies.

“Clover Ebi,” Elm huffed, trying her best not to imagine what was happening in there.

“He really is very lucky,” Vine noted.

“Too lucky!” Elm sighed. “Too lucky by far.”

\---xxx---


End file.
